


what I want you've got, it might be hard to handle

by enerra



Series: you make my dreams [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Canon Era, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enerra/pseuds/enerra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's idiot manservant intercepts a lust spell cast by some magical trollop. Merlin is furious. Gwaine is sick of playing the second string. Arthur despairs of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what I want you've got, it might be hard to handle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes, for my first venture into fanfic I'd like to present this thoughtful epic, deep, full of feelings, poignant yet uplifting.
> 
> Just kidding, I wrote a tropey fuck or die mess. This is straight (lol) porn. 
> 
> Merlin bumbles into the way of a lust spell. Arthur has a few ideas about how the next part should go. Technically some dub-con as Merlin is Under the Influence, but both Merlin and Arthur make it perfectly clear that there's nothing going on they haven't been daydreaming about forever.

“You stupid cow, this is all your fault,” Merlin hissed at the sorceress, and shucked off his trousers.

“ _Well_ ,” Gwaine said. “It’s always the skinny ones, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Arthur snapped, unable to tear his eyes from Merlin’s - from Merlin. Ten years. Ten years Merlin had been in his service. Ten years Arthur had been feverishly imagining Merlin naked, his hands moving under the furs at night. Ten years of resolutely turning his back on Merlin bathing, swimming, waiting, hoping for the day when it might be more than a furtive, guilty peek, the day when Merlin might — but now, here Arthur was.

Merlin was stripping in what appeared to be a mixture of incandescent rage and wounded pride, his most painful secret freshly torn from him, forced to succumb to an indignity at the hands of the enemy and only humiliated by Arthur’s presence.

Arthur’s life was an absolute shambles.

“I’m just saying,” Gwaine put in. “He’s got a very nice -”

“Gwaine! Mind your tongue,” Arthur said, a touch hysterically. “That’s my manservant. And don’t - don’t look, he can’t - he’s not in his right - it’s not right!”

“You’re looking,” Gwaine pointed out, unmoved. “I might even go so far as to call it staring, really. Anyway, I shouldn’t worry. He doesn’t seem to be feeling shy.”

Merlin paid them no mind. “I’m going to fuck you raw,” Merlin said viciously to the sorceress, who turned quite pink and began fumbling at the laces to her dress. Not shy, indeed, Arthur thought. He felt a bit faint.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, please.”

“For hours,” Merlin growled, whipping off his shirt. He emerged with tousled hair and glowing amber eyes, stark naked. He was gorgeous. The long clean lines of him looked unexpectedly ferocious, laid bare, like a greyhound or peregrine or some other finely-tuned predator built for speed. For the first time, Merlin looked precisely as dangerous as Arthur had been suspecting for years. It was wretchedly appealing.

“ _Hours_ ,” Merlin was raving, blithely oblivious to Arthur’s ongoing inability to function. “Until you can’t even remember a time before I had my cock in you, until you’re crying, begging, and I _still won’t let you come,_ because you don’t deserve to, what kind of lunatic does this to someone, oh god, this is awful, I can’t think.”

The swooping lines of his hipbones made Arthur want to cry. He shifted miserably. Getting hard in armor was a most unpleasant experience.

“Well,” Gwaine said, sounding a bit breathless. “It’s always the - hm. Merlin never _has_ been a quiet one, though, has he? Talkative, really. Says what’s on his mind, that’s what I like about him. Or, at least,” he said, with a judicious glance downwards, “One of the things.”

Merlin took two quick steps forward and reached for the slattern. There was a tearing sound as he caught hold of her neckline.

“Merlin!” Arthur said, appalled. Merlin was practically gleaming in the daylight, fragile translucent skin and the occasional endearing freckle. There were no words for the perfection of the curve of his ass. Arthur’s hands and the pit of his stomach ached fiercely. “What are you doing? You can’t - she’s a sorceress!”

“Having a magic-user, how terrible,” Merlin said, turning his head from where he was fisting a hand in her hair to glare at Arthur. The supernatural tart didn’t bother. She was looking rather glazed about the eyes, fixated on Merlin’s beautiful - on his groin. Arthur helplessly followed her gaze. His mouth watered. Merlin blushed angrily, which Arthur hadn’t known was possible, but if anyone could manage it, it was Merlin.

“As I was saying. If I don’t get my cock in something in the next two minutes I am going to literally die, so unless any of you have any bright ideas, I’d appreciate it if you turned around.”

“Ahem,” Gwaine said. It was quite simple, Arthur realized. He would have to kill Gwaine. A fragment of peace washed over him. Merlin, unaware of these developments, cocked his head at Gwaine, eyes still glowing a sharp gold. He looked lethal, savage and magnificent, like a bird of prey. Arthur swallowed, his homicidal designs floating away.

Gwaine grinned. “If it’s absolutely necessary, I’m perfectly willing to - ”

“Shut _up!_ ” Arthur roared, remembering. “You will not! I won’t allow it!”

“Sorceress it is,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. He turned back to the tart.

“I forbid it! She’s _magic_!” Arthur said with horror, scrambling for a reason, any reason to halt the proceedings, which were proceeding at rates far faster than he was comfortable with. Not to mention, with the entirely wrong people. “She’s a bloody sorceress!”

“It’s not like I’m going to catch it from her,” Merlin said reasonably, hooking a leg behind her knees and bearing her down to the ground rather more roughly than Arthur had pictured Merlin treating bed partners. She squealed in a grating parody of delight. Not that he had spent time thinking about how Merlin treated others in bed. Much time. “Haven’t you been paying any attention?” Merlin asked, shoving the trollop’s dress up to her waist. “You really are a clotpole.”

“Stop! I forbid it!” Arthur howled again, hazardously close to plumbing the very depths of lunacy. Merlin froze, bent over the wench with his mouth just a fraction from hers, and turned to stare at Arthur, apparently twigging onto the fact that his king was a bare inch from utterly losing his mind. His mouth mustn’t touch, Arthur knew. He couldn’t - he couldn’t bear it if -

“Arthur?” Merlin said, wobblingly, and suddenly Arthur had his strong thin wrist in his hand without any clear idea of how it had got there. This must be what madness was like, he thought with resignation. He tugged Merlin upright and insinuated himself between the two of them, the sorceress wailing incoherently on the ground behind him and Merlin naked and panting and gloriously _hard_ in front of him. Arthur dropped his wrist like it was a burning brand, shuddering.

“You can’t,” he said inanely, wanting to hit himself when he was unable to produce anything more compelling. He was horribly aware of the heavy stare of his knight, but then hadn’t Gwaine just… if he could do it with no backlash, why not Arthur? Were these not the men he trusted best in the whole world? Did he not trust them with his life?

“Arthur,” Merlin said through gritted teeth, and Arthur had to take a deep breath at his name in that specific tone of voice. “I realize it is your fondest delight to suck every possible joy from my life but I don’t think you understand. If I do not fuck her, very soon, _I am going to die,_ because you were jealous I was about to get the girl for once. I don’t even want her, you stupid prat.”

Arthur wavered on the precipice for just a moment. How could he hesitate any longer, looking at Merlin’s teeth in the plush pink swell of his lip, the blotchy flush spreading down his neck and chest, the sleek narrow cut of his waist? Cowardice was no choice. What did it matter who saw? This was the truth, and he was a true king, and good.

“Does it - ” he said, seizing his famed courage with both hands. “Must it be her? Couldn’t you… with someone else?”

“You don’t seem very keen on letting me bugger Gwaine,” Merlin said, very crassly. He ought to stop letting him drink with the knights, Arthur thought vaguely. Especially after this.

“Not - Gwaine,” Arthur said, and to his mortification felt a blush rise to his own cheeks.

Merlin went dead pale, and then scarlet, and swayed on his feet. Arthur could see his pupils blow gratifyingly wide even from this distance, and the more obvious twitch of his lovely, leaking cock against his thigh. Arthur felt as though he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, in full armor.

“Wait,” the sorceress said desperately, sensing the situation getting away from her. Merlin waved a hand at her without turning and she fell to muffled grunts. Arthur preened with the same bone-deep satisfaction he always felt when Merlin paid the proper amount of attention to him.  
  
“What do you mean,” Merlin said, a tremble in his voice. “Arthur, I need you to - you need to tell me exactly what you mean, because this has been, bar none, the worst day of my life but I could - it could be worse, or. Or better. And I just… what are you saying?”

“I could,” he said, heart pounding. “If you wanted to. I would let you.”

“Let me,” Merlin said slowly, face falling. “Arthur, you self-sacrificing idiot, you don’t have to, I wouldn’t - I don’t want it like - thank you, but. No.”

“You’re not making me, Merlin, I’m the only sensible choice,” Arthur said desperately. It wasn’t even scary now, that he’d decided. He reeled Merlin in with one unsteady hand to cup his jaw and kiss him, insistent and soft and as sweet as he could make it. “Merlin,” he said when they parted, his head spinning. “Merlin, pick me.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said hoarsely, clinging to him and staring up with those hot yellow eyes, “always.”

And then Arthur was on his back in a warm green meadow, neither his clothes nor his armor nor Gwaine (thank god) having made the trip with him. Merlin was naked above him and on him, hot and lean and perfect and he couldn’t think about a single thing except the silky ladder of Merlin’s vertebrae under his fingertips, the hot softness of his mouth. Time passed immeasurably, hours or seconds or neither, until Merlin detached with a pained noise, nudging under Arthur’s chin to set his teeth. “I wanted to wait,” he said, worrying at the skin. “I always imagined I would take my time, but I have to -”

“It’s fine,” Arthur said, brains scrambled beyond the ability to process, but getting the gist. “Merlin, come on, it’s fine.” Merlin sat up and watched Arthur with golden eyes as he slid both hands down the front of Arthur, one going to cup his weeping cock and the other between his thighs.

Arthur parted his legs. He’d always assumed if they were going to do this that it would be the other way around, but he wasn’t sure how specific the spell was, and anyway, there was something exhilarating in the surrender. He couldn’t seem to summon the inner infrastructure to sit up, anyway. Merlin bent to kiss him, and breathed a word against his mouth, then simultaneously slid a wet finger into him and squeezed his cock. Arthur yelped and jolted up against him, shocked.

“You’ve never -?”

“Of course not,” Arthur said. Who could he possibly let?

“I’ll - I’ll make it so good for you, Arthur,” Merlin said gaspingly, and then Arthur had to sink his teeth into his cheek while Merlin worked him over painfully slow, one slick hand on his cock and three fingers holding him open while Arthur threw his head back and held fast to the last remains of his composure, pulling up great fistfuls of grass. The king of Camelot himself, crying out for his sorcerer-servant to - to fuck him. Oh god, how had he gotten here?

“I - I have to,” Merlin said at last, when Arthur was sure could take no more of this teasing. “Please, Arthur, if I have to watch you a second longer I’ll go mad.”

“Yes,” Arthur blurted out, “now, yes.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said, drawing his fingers out of Arthur. Arthur spasmed around the loss. Merlin was dripping sweat, red-faced and glassy eyed and beautiful. He couldn’t seem to stop touching Arthur, one hand just barely pumping his cock, the other trailing through the hair at his navel. “You don’t have to do this, you know, there’s, we could try - ”

“ _Do_ shut up, Merlin, and stop messing about,” Arthur panted and grabbed him by the cock and guided him in. The first press cut off the air to his lungs, and he tried to heave in lungful after lungful as Merlin pushed in and in and in. He felt - it really was a very nice cock. There was a brief moment of pain, then Merlin was murmuring in his ear and running his hand up and down Arthur’s sides, soothing sparks trailing, and the discomfort was gone, though not the sensation of being spitted. Merlin was inside him entirely. Arthur quivered.

“Are you, can I,” Merlin said, fingertips lingering reverently on the shell of his ear.

“Get on with it,” Arthur bit out, swearing to himself he would not beg. He was the king, for pity’s sake, there was at least a modicum of decorum involved with the position. Merlin sighed and drew back, then thrust into him.

He rocked under Merlin silently for as long as he could cling to his dignity, fighting not to wail when Merlin tipped his hips up and brushed by something shivery and electric in Arthur’s belly. He felt like a crossbow bolt about to fly, as if he was going to come apart, would disintegrate into a million shards of ecstasy and delight, if only someone would loose the trigger. Arthur could scarcely bear it. There was nothing for it.

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking, “Merlin, please, I need...”

Merlin froze above him, lifting his hand from Arthur’s hip.

Arthur wanted to scream. How entirely typical of Merlin, the contrary bastard. He forced his eyes open to properly chastise him, only to find Merlin was crying, eyes the deep blue of lakewater. Arthur’s guts seized. This was wrong, Merlin must not have wanted - it had been the spell. Arthur was sick. How could he have? Had he ruined it all, only for this? Merlin was so much more to him than this, only he hadn’t been able to - he’d been so weak, in the face of temptation.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, beating Arthur by mere seconds. He sniffed and reached for Arthur like he wanted to touch, but his hand stopped before contact, trembling. “I can’t, I won’t make you, Arthur, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop, I just wanted - I’ve wanted you, so much, for so long and when you kissed me, I thought maybe - but I can tell you don’t, I’m sorry, shh, it’ll be okay, I’m sorry, my love.”

Arthur’s abdominal muscles jumped at the endearment, his cock pulsing wet on his stomach, and he had to close his eyes against the sudden lurching pain under his breastbone. For so long, he’d been waiting. He couldn’t believe - for the love of god, the fool thought Arthur wanted him to stop. “Don’t stop, damn you,” Arthur gasped out. His eyes had grown damp, for some unknown reason, and he swiped at them with the back of one hand and wrapped the other around Merlin’s sweaty nape, carding through his dark hair. “I don’t want you to stop, I want - I want - I love you, you utter idiot.”

“You, you _what,_ ” Merlin said, and then, “Arthur,” helplessly, like it was being torn from him. He seized Arthur’s leg behind the knee and folded him practically in half, driving into Arthur wildly. Arthur’s vision whited out and his spine drew up into a tense arc, his heel clamping down of it’s own accord to brace against Merlin’s back. “Yes, oh god, oh god, right there, yes,” Arthur babbled, clawing at Merlin’s shoulders and losing total control of his mouth at last. If his subjects could hear their king now, he’d never be able to sit council again. He sounded like the room at the top of the stairs in Camelot’s most disreputable brothel but oh, if only Merlin would keep doing that he’d beg for it on the throne room floor at high noon on a Sunday with the whole court watching.

“If you keep talking I’m going to - going to come,” Merlin said tightly. Arthur whimpered. Merlin cursed, and a giant invisible hand pressed Arthur’s shoulder blades flat to the earth. Merlin slung Arthur’s leg over his shoulder, seized him by both hips and pounded into him madly. Arthur thrashed like a hooked fish, forced to let himself be split open and held down, pinned in place in the most exquisite pleasure he’d ever felt. Merlin. He couldn’t think why they hadn’t - for so many years, why he couldn’t have just said -

“Harder, harder, ah, ah, _Mer_ lin,” he begged, surging up against Merlin’s magic and Merlin and feeling him not give a fraction, his blood pounding in his chest and then he could no longer speak and Merlin was fucking little speechless ‘ah, ah, ah’s,’ out of him as something wound up inside him. There was a perfect moment of clarity, Merlin’s lovely ink blue eyes meeting his, and then Arthur clenched around him and came volcanically without so much as a brush against his cock, falling into light and darkness and a bright sparkling space behind his eyelids.

“Arthur, Arthur, fuck, I can’t, you’re so gorgeous, I love you, _always_ ,” Merlin said in his ear in a hurried rush and then pressed his hips to Arthur’s and stilled, coming in a hot rush that nearly set Arthur off again. The invisible hand lifted and Merlin collapsed down on to Arthur in a sweaty heap. Arthur gathered him up to pet down his back and croon in his ear, his mind spinning through, _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin_ , and then a separate, satisfied part of him saying, _at last, at last_.

***

“She got away, you know. You forgot to bind her.”

“Ah, well, these things happen,” Arthur said philosophically. He was finding it very hard to care about such things right now. “He was busy.”

“Did you know you’ve got twigs in your hair?” Gwaine said, in what Arthur found was a decidedly impolite tone of voice. “And dirt. The whole back of your neck is covered in dirt. Is that - Merlin, is your back _bleeding?_ ”

“Almost certainly,” Arthur said lazily, swinging up into his saddle and settling down with a pleased wince. “Don’t be jealous, Gwaine, it isn’t becoming. Just because you didn’t get a turn. It’s no use pouting.”

“Arthur, ” Merlin said, turning bright red. He was beginning to shift restlessly, the curse still echoing in his blood, and Arthur felt a heady burst of arousal. _Well_. That was something to think about on the ride home.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said. “We don’t have time to loll about, get on the damn horse so we can go home and you can fuck me in a bed.”

Merlin staggered back and gaped. “Don’t - you can’t just say things like that!” He hid his flushed face against his mount’s side, who laid back an ear and switched his tail. Merlin never had managed to pin down horsemanship. He put his foot in the stirrup and mounted up, a mockery of the graceful way Arthur had done it.

“I can say whatever I want,” Arthur corrected him, basking in the warm smugness that enveloped him at Gwaine’s disgruntled expression. “I am the King. Now, let’s go home. Bed. Perhaps the rug? Why not both, really? No need to be stingy. What’s another two times on top of three?”

“Arthur!” Merlin squeaked and went right over the other side of the horse in an ungainly tangle. Arthur glowed with contentment.

“Three - three times?” Gwaine asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Well,” Arthur pronounced gleefully, and put his heels to his horse. “It’s always the unexpected ones.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to write a prequel to this of the events directly beforehand. Thoughts?


End file.
